


oh christmas trese

by dyules



Category: Trese (Comics)
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyules/pseuds/dyules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or alternatively, Christmas is a time for fun!</p>
<p>In which Trese and her friends celebrate the holidays in their own little ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh christmas trese

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meicdon13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meicdon13/gifts), [lunardistance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunardistance/gifts).



> YO MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS!! A Christmas gift for the loveliest of friends haha, lunardistance and Meicdon13. Thanks for always being just a chatbox away!

“How many times do I have to tell you not to redecorate without permission?”

The young man currently nailing mistletoe on the only doorway up the second floor of the Diabolical grinned towards the speaker.

“Aw, come on, it’s just a little something to spruce the place up for Christmas!” Maliksi hopped down the stool and moved aside to make way for the passing Trese.

Alexandra Trese stared at the hanging branch and the man standing underneath it, clearly expecting something, with a mixture of exasperation and annoyance.

She turned towards the bar, where Hank was conspicuously decorating a small Christmas tree. “Hank! Sort this out.”

 

-

 

“No, I’m telling you, I’m pretty sure Santa Claus started out as a _tiktik_ of sorts,” Basilio remarked in all seriousness, eliciting airy laughs from Hannah and Ammie and a groan from his brother.

“ _Gago,_ Santa Claus is not a _tiktik_. First of all, he’s a foreigner.”

Basilio pushed on, shaking his coffee cup in excitement. They were caught in a whirlwind of people rushing for last-minute Christmas presents in Divisoria, and more than a few people have looked curiously at them – two tall men in suits on a hot December day and two ethereally beautiful women who walked as if on air. The boys were laden with all sizes and shapes of paper bags and Hannah and Ammie, breezing through shop after shop, were having the time of their lives.

“That doesn’t mean he can’t exist here! Come on, a supernatural being who walks on roofs with a predilection for children?”

Crispin adjusted his shades. Boy, was it hot. “Santa Claus doesn’t _eat_ them.”

“Why don’t we find out and wait for him to come on Christmas Eve?” Hannah’s tinkling voice wafted from somewhere near Basilio’s shoulder.

Ammie tugged on Crispin’s arm in reply. “Oooh! That would be exciting! We could wait on top of our baby cousin’s house!”

“It’s a date then!” Basilio winked at the girls. “We’ll come get you after Noche Buena with Bossing and Hank. Plenty of time to catch a _tiktik_ in the act!”

 

-

 

“Hmm, I don’t know, it doesn’t seem authentic enough for me,” a note of indecision flavored Spunky’s words, as he surveyed the object laid out in front of him.

Meanwhile, irritation was evident in Hank’s voice as he answered, “Spunky, we just drove two and a half hours because you said the ones in Manila weren’t nearly as authentic as the ones we can find here.”

“I know that. It’s just –“ Spunky lifted the object, squinting. “The color doesn’t seem loud enough.”

“It’s loud enough for me. You’d better choose or we’ll get stuck in traffic going back!”

“Why do you always sap the Christmas spirit?”

“The real question is, why do you need a huge _parol_ for your morgue?”

 

-

 

Dawn was breaking as the people filed out of the church, exchanging Christmas greetings and stopping before stalls to buy some _puto bumbong_ and _bibingka_ for their families. It was a promising start to the holiday, and a spirit of good-will hung over the church-goers on that blessed morning. Captain Guerrero, walking beside his wife and extended family, was revelling in the cool early morning air, when the sight of a familiar black coat stopped him.

“Alexandra!”

The figure turned at the call, and waved a greeting. “Merry Christmas, Captain.”

“Merry Christmas. Where are the boys?”

Alexandra Trese smiled at the captain, shaking her head. “The boys were up all night chasing Santa Claus. They’ve been doing that since grade school. I expect them to turn up later this morning. Santa always gives them too much to drink.”

Temporarily shoving the Santa information aside, the captain laughed, looking fondly at Trese. “I hope you’re not thinking of working today.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m going visiting,” Trese answered, holding up a bag of hot _bibingka._

“Well, you better get going, _bibingka_ tastes better while it’s hot. Merry Christmas again.”

“You too, Captain.”

 

-

 

Alexandra Trese placed the steaming _bibingka_ before her parents’ graves and smiled.

“ _Tao po._ _Namamasko po_.”


End file.
